Games are not just games

Playing games is a waste of time, they say. Games make you lazy. Games are distracting. Games are for children. I've heard all of these and more, but these are all misconceptions, propagated by boomers and people with little understanding of games and their benefits on society.

I have played games since I can remember. At around 4-5 years old I've touched my first computer, and on it, using floppy discs, I started learning to play games. I had games that taught me cognitive skills, such as solving puzzles, remembering patterns and other games that taught me new languages such as English and French. Games, particularly those on consoles and the PC were a huge part of my childhood. We used to meet at my cousin, usually for 3-4 days per week during Summer holidays playing games together. Sometimes we played against each other, sometimes together, and other times I just observed. But it was always a nice time, for I was interacting with my family, laughing together, thinking out problems and creating strategies on the spot. These are skills I've taken with me to adulthood, and they help me every day during work.

Playing real-time strategy (RTS) games from around 5-12 years of age taught me to think quickly and find alternative solutions. Games I played included Starcraft I and II, Command & Conquer, Red Alert, Warcraft I, I & III and Age of Empires. I remember how me and my cousin developed a strategy of beating a map encounter by bending the rules and instead of building an army throughout the game, we stormed the enemy with a few units provided at the start and managed to win in a few minutes. This taught me to think of unique risky ideas which might fail miserably, but if they actually worked they transformed the core philosophy of the game. I also remember playing RTS-LAN games and understanding how bad I am at the game when I was destroyed by my friends. This taught me that however good I thought I was, there was always room for improvement.

Then came the the console age between 12-16 years old where I played a large diversity of games such as Role-Playing Games, fighting games, racing etc. These games were mostly single-player and helped me to develop a sense of independence. I could go through a game learning on my own and whenever we got stuck we discussed between cousins or friends and obtained information to advance in the game. At this same age we started dabbling into card games such as Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh, which taught me how to interact with people but also showed me that I can memorise hundreds of names and all their interactions. These skills were also improved by learning combos in fighting games or learning cheat codes by heart in GTA Vice City and San Andreas. We also developed quick reaction time skills by playing shooting games such as Call of Duty which would come in handy 12 years later to avoid hitting a sheep with my car.

At around 15-16 years I started the infamous Massively Multiplayer Role Playing Game (MMORPG) called World of Warcraft (WoW). This is a period of my life where I learnt to work in teams. Joining a guild of 100 or more people as a teenager and getting kicked out for being a drama queen taught me the value of peace-keeping. I learnt how to treat people with respect and dignity and how to work with other people. I've played this game for over 8500 hours, and if this seems insane, it is. I made friends along the way, friends who I celebrated my 18th birthday with in-game, which felt more real to me than the forced birthday wishes in real life. And even though I have forgotten the names of these people, or the names of their characters in game, I can vividly remember being surprised by a digital cake and digital fireworks on an unexpected day which might have otherwise been another dull blip in my teenage years.

Playing in WoW taught me to grind for achievements, which means doing monotonous repetitive tasks to obtain rewards. Being part of guilds, as a new player, as a novice, as a growing skill-full player being assigned as officer, then raiding leader and eventually forming our own guild and acting as Guild Leader taught me how to always strive to improve, but at the same time be grounded. When working with a wide variety of people; some ambitious and striving for perfection way beyond your expectation, some lazy and some rather casual, you learn how to accept diversity and make use of their differences not just for your personal growth but for the growth of the whole guild. WoW has truly been a journey and a game I still enjoy occasionally to this day. I sometimes say that I play this game for it's story telling, but I feel that the reason I enjoyed it this long was the social interaction.

Lastly, came Magic The Gathering (MTG), a card game. This game has provided a space for playing in person with people I didn't know before and a common ground on which to talk with total strangers. It has allowed my friends to gather around a table and spend a couple of hours playing, ending with laughter or banging on the table, shouting profanities at their luck. Creating decks in my head from hundreds of memorised cards and their interactions also helped me learn how to connect the dots on a large scale. Playing the game taught me to think ahead and not to focus just on what I can do, but what my opponent is likely to play on their next turn. Thinking ahead is an important skill that this game teaches you when you find yourself being stopped by your opponent and told "Nope", denying your move and also teaching you the meaning of patience.

Games have been part of my life from the beginning and they have also affected a lot of people I know. Games do not make people lazy. Games help people fight depression. Games help people make friends and socialise. Games help people improve their cognitive and social skills. Games are not just games.

This post was inspired by this quote from the game World of Warcraft

Three Hues of Dusk

Black shores of forgotten seas

And strings of orange light

Between two impossible skies

Lie dormant, waiting night

The gentle quiet of early dark

And a calm silent breeze
On these velvet purple waters

The caress of soothing peace

Hues of day now gone

Faded into the blackened night

The distant echoing hum

And far off balls of yellow-white

Dear Virelda

Dear Virelda,
You came into this world when the world had left us all behind. The black mist was and is still our greatest struggle. It is a boundary between our world and our society. Yet, it is not the real threat to our survival. The world moved on long ago and the black mist is just a little after-thought of the chaos that had befallen our lands.

It is said that the great cities of the Far Beyond were ten times larger and twice as tall as our own. Their towers scraped the skies not where the clouds touch their spires but where the clouds look like tutus around their waist. And even though the people of those cities fought hard against the changes that occurred, they all failed to persevere. The cities were abandoned and the hollow shells of those towers eventually crumbled with time. Not Skyscapes however. We lived. 

The black mist engulfed our delta like an amoeba engulfs a particle of food. It came slowly over the years, and then thickened with the years that passed. The soil beneath turned to dust and the roots and blades of grass withered away into the stale air. The Great Mountains to the West held the black mist from spilling over to the forests of the Far Beyond and this was not our greatest misfortune. It was in fact a stroke of luck. For even if the Black Mist prevented us from walking off across the mountains, it also prevented things from coming our way. The Far Beyond, they say, is a land that we should never even think of venturing into. This is why the Poison Wall was grown. For the wall protects us from the ground, and the Black Mist from the skies. 

You might grow thinking there is little to know about our world. Some people will silence you when you ask questions and others will fear your curiosity and ignore you. Do not be like the rest of them Virelda. Ask questions, but ask them to the right people. The Golden Library holds scrolls and documents forgotten even by the Elite. It is a treasure chest filled with gems from the past. Seek this knowledge and make it your purpose to learn what was and what is of our world. Do not succumb to obsession, however, for the hasty mind makes errors and errors can be dangerous in our times. Have patience Virelda. With time you will learn things that will define you and our city and eventually, change will come. 

For now I'll leave you with my trusted friend and cousin Joe, for I have been banished from Skyscapes. This is the result of over-indulgence in one's own curiosity and obsession. Do not be like me Virelda. I will watch over you, don't worry, as I have always did. When it is time, nineteen years from now, Joe will show you this letter, and all will be revealed.

Let the sun shine over the magnificence of our city, as it shall shine on your life Virelda.

Much love,
Dad.

Moving Backwards into the Future

There is a distinction between relevance and apparent existence. Does a tree make a sound in the forest if it falls and there is no one to listen to it? Yes, it does, and yes it does not. It is all relative, and it has to do with relevance.

Let's take man as the point of reference and the sound as the relevant event that is being studied in regards to man. If there is no man to hear the tree fall, then it is as if it never fell, because for man it had no relevance. If, say, we took the damage to the ecosystem as the relevant event, than we could say that the tree falling had a relevant effect on man trying to save the ecosystem, and therefore the falling of the tree indeed happened, in relevance to the effects on man. Yet, if sound has no real impact on man (the observer) than the event of a tree falling and making sound in the absence of man has no real relevance to man and it is as if it never did any sound.

If we take this to a new level, what if the past exists because we can remember it? Let's take myself as an example. Ryan now has choices to make as he grows up. Take two choices as an example; a) I have to go abroad in a week, b) I do not go abroad next week. If I go abroad, I die in an airplane accident. If I don't go abroad, I stay alive. This means that my future holds two possibilities. Either I die in a week or I don't. In the former case, my future self seizes to exist in one week. In the latter, my future self continues to exist until an indefinite time in the future when it dies.

Right before I die in choice A, my future self in timeline A remembers my present self. By doing so, choice A is a relevant pathway into the future. By observing myself in a week, my future self in timeline B also remembers my present self, and by so doing so choice B becomes a relevant pathway.
However, pathway B also creates an indefinite amount of alternate pathways to my death. Each of those pathways, which are a consequence of choice B also remember my present self, and by so doing they positively reinforce choice B.

At every choice, the chance of picking either A or B is still 50%. However, the relevance of the future Ryan in all pathways leading from choice B is larger than the single pathway (to death) leading from choice A. This means that choice B has more relevance to the present than choice A.

My apparent existence tells me that for every point in time where I have a choice between two choices, I always pick one or the other randomly equally (assuming that the event leading from the choice  has no relevance on your choice). If both choices, A and B were equally relevant to me then I would pick either one at 50% chance. What if, however, this is not so? What if our present is created by our future? If choice B results in a higher number of future pathways then wouldn't choice B be picked more often in the present? For this to happen there must be one of two possible scenarios; either the future is creating the past, or the future is transferring information to the past, affecting it.

Either one of these scenarios seems implausible in our current understanding. Our vision of reality tells us that we are moving towards the future by creating events and picking choices in the present leaving behind an untouchable immutable past. However, what would happen if we were to learn that the present self has further power on the past than on our future?

What if by remembering the past, we are keeping that past-self alive? What if all the future Ryan's resulting from choice B are remembering Ryan choosing choice B, then doesn't that put more relevance on Ryan choosing choice B? Ryan choosing choice B thus has more relevance to the present than choice A because the future Ryan is giving it relevance.

I could, therefore, be moving backwards into the future. By remembering the past I give relevance to it. And those choices in the present that lead to larger amount of branching pathways in the future are not the result of a deliberate choice in the present but a consequence of their relevance to the future. The future is thus creating the present.

A Hug

Saw her there standing in a corner. Tears hanging on her chin, her red cheeks watery, glistening in the light of this nice day. And I looked into her eyes as she looked into mine. I walked, slowly towards her as she stood there. With open arms, I hugged her fragile state.

I wanted to squeeze her pain away. My arms wrapped around her tense body, her stiff muscles against mine. Her head nestled on my shoulders as her sobbing slowed, her chin dampening my hair.

Then my arms wrapped tightly firm around her, my fingers anchoring on her clothes. She stood there, still with her arms draping down. I caged her inside my warmth and there I gave her shelter.

Into the distance I stared and of nothing I thought. This wasn't a moment to think, but one to feel. Her beating heart thumped against my chest. Her blushing cheeks radiated heat into my neck.

There we stood silent. That was all I could give. That was all she needed.

Little Beating Heart

Every little thing's
That gonna flicker
In this beating heart
Will die out
And every little thing
That was once close
To this beating heart
Will vanish with it
All the little things
That once danced
With the rhythm
Of this beating heart
Cease to move
To the little things
And to my heart
Forever loved
Once forgotten
Beats no more.

An Adventure

At the foot of the white-tipped mountain
We set up camp on green blades of grass
And that night under a black sky dotted with stars
We slept singing songs of old and eating bread
For the next day, early as the sun broke
We set forth, for the peak of ice we walked.

It took us six days, we hiked we climbed
Across the beaten track and beyond the paths
We met a lake of blue and green with fish
And beavers that swam and pulled logs in it
We hunted one and ate it hot on a blazing fire
Made from wood that we got from trees of Spruce

On the seventh day when the sun peaking out
From behind the horizon it welcomed us
Upon the peak of Mount Magut we stretched our feet
And we laughed and clapped hi-fives
And hugged each other in the cold air
That swept up from down below

We then looked at each other for a moment
Back and forth we nodded agreement
And we jumped down the mountain
With parachutes we swayed fast.
Down fast we went against the cold breeze
The camps down below like ants we saw

And in a few minutes we descended
In an open field of grass we landed
And laughed and hugged
For the climb of days took so brief now
To get back to camps and a fire we set up
And there we lay and sang and bread we ate.

Euthanasia, what about it?

And again, it is the people without suffering and without actually being in the shoes of people like that woman with persistent 24 hour ringing in her ear like "nails on chalkboard" who had to suffer 24/7 that say her wish to die and stop her suffering is "absolutely outrageous." 

Who is to say that ..." allowing killing as an acceptable answer to many causes of suffering, whether terminal or chronic disease, disability, mental illness, or existential despair.”...is not actually wrong?? but is a right (both literally and figuratively)?? 

Not all people had the luck to be born "perfect". Some may suffer from immeasurable pain (and this could be mentally, such as depression or existential despair as cited) which makes it so much harder for them to have a normal life. What gives YOU (the person that is living a normal life) the right to tell those who are suffering what to do with their lives? 

If a disability is making someone incapable of making decisions of his own, making him suffer, unable to cope in the world, isn't it his family's choice whether to let him continue his life? This is the same family that raised him, gave him the chance to live, to grow...because otherwise, even in a natural setting, he would still die. If such a person is really suffering, wouldn't death be a better end result than your selfish want to keep him with you. 

And then, if children, very young babies, are still not even conscious and self-aware but are known to be disabled in such a way that their future holds nothing but grief, prejudice, pain and torture in life, isn't it the right of the parent (that same parent that gave life to the child in the first place) to decide to end her child's suffering? Again, if that child would have been born an animal, he would have probably been abandoned by his mother or eaten very quickly after. 

The possibility of euthanasia is giving the choice in the hands of who deserves it rather than taking it from them by the selfish people that are busy living a "normal" life, arguing whether or not it is ok to give the right to a suffering person to end his life. Euthanasia is an act of altruism not an act of cowardice when done correctly. 

If you tell me that Euthanasia will cause problems in situations where killing oneself (such as depression in teenagers) could have been avoided, then the problem is not euthanasia itself but the society which created that scenario where the child is depressed in the first place.

Euthanasia is giving the right (and almost the last word) to the person to end his life in light of his society rather in the shadow of it. It is like society giving its last recognition to that person who itself (the society) had destroyed in the first place. 

Without euthanasia, suicide would be frowned upon as something that is unnatural, yet suicide was the cause of that society itself, further amplifying the fact that we live in a selfish, self-centred egoistic society that only thinks what WE ourselves do is right and whatever decision people take is wrong. Again, this is only so because we are selfish and are not living in other people's shoes.

Pro-Life or Not So Much?

Are those who claim the right to protect the life of embryonic humans, people who are aptly named pro-lifers, really struggling to preserve life? Or are they just preserving their egoistic ideologies?

Given the choice between saving an embryo and saving a mother I do not see how a pro-lifer can value an embryo on the same scale as the mother. How can you attribute the same qualities, the same rights, the same privileges to the embryo as to the mother?

Consider this; a mother, a wife. She has been born for forty years and on the Earth she walked for forty years. Now look at her history, but do not start from her childhood. Do not look at when she was just a ball of cells but look at her now, an adult human being. This person has a life. She eats, she loves, she smiles and cries, she can talk and dance. She has friends and maybe family. She is living. Her memories live in the minds of those who met her, her 'soul' lives on in the lives of the people around her. Yet, look at her now when she was just a ball of cell. What defined her then as what she is now? Was she then what she is now?

Now consider that embryo deleted from existence. There is no mother any more. No memories linger in the minds of people that never had the chance to get to know this person. Yet, they do not know this. For they had never the chance to meet her in the first place, and thus never had the chance to integrate her in their lives. She will never be missed, always forgotten. An embryo which is not born is not a human which is to die.

Pro-lifers tell me that the embryo has potential to become human. That if given enough time, it will grow to become this mother. I tell them that that is true. I also tell them, that the embryo WILL become a mother, but right now it is not. Consider the embryo discarded. Would you rather discard an embryo or discard the mother which brought forth this same embryo?

What if, after the discard of the first embryo, the mother decided to bare another embryo inside her? Would this embryo grow up to be a human being much or the same as the human being that was discarded before it? And if so, wouldn't this mean that by not discarding the first embryo you are denying life for the second embryo?

Do not put forward arguments of probability when that same probability contradicts your assertions. How are you so certain that that embryo which you so valiantly defend is more important than those countless other possible embryos that you have so foolishly forgotten?

DNA does not make us human. Humanity makes us human. Life moulds us into a shape filled with character and memories. An embryo has none of these. When given the chance to kill an embryo for the benefit of the mother, would you choose to kill an embryo without a written future, or kill a mother with a written past?

Did They Go A Step Too Far?

In light of the recent attacks on Charlie Hebdo in France and the barbaric murder of more than 10 people there were a lot of accusations towards the Islamic culture as being shockingly primitive in its way of dealing with satire and how a small proportion of this religion is inevitably taught to act like animals in the face of offences such as what Charlie Hebdo was putting out.

There was of course people that commented and told the inevitable crusading proportion of the Catholic faith not to generalize and condone all Muslims for the barbaric act of few extremists. Some of these "peace-makers" were members of Charlie Hebdo itself. They are trying to mitigate ethnicism by implying that the killings  were the consequence of a few crazy individuals and not the Islamic religion.

But how accurate is this really? What I see, and what I see greatly lacking in the media and the general public, is that the true consequence of this murderous incident was Charlie Hebdo itself. The killings occurred as a radical response to the "satire" of Islamic religion Charlie Hebdo is known to venture into. Charlie is said to target "political right wing, capitalism, Christianity, Judaism and Islam" according to NPR.org, but at what extent should ridiculing people, entities or their beliefs be accepted?

When I was still young my mother always taught me that if I did not want to get punched or assaulted at school I should never insult other people, not just to not get attacked, but because making fun of others or calling them names is wrong in itself. Charlie Hebdo did not apparently receive this message.

Even though the mocking of religions or famous figures is in itself harmful, in the sense that it does not kill nor physically injure anyone, it could still be a very damaging and spiteful endeavour. It is of course known that the satire issued by such media companies tends to mock radical, extremist or misguided behaviour by religious or famous figures, such as terrorism, racism, feminism and the like. However, one must ask if the act of ridiculing the main figures of religion is in fact combating these mal-behaviours, or is it in fact ridiculing and generalizing a whole religious group of people as being all terrorists?

It is rather ironic that in the aftermath of the incident that happened on the 7th of January 2015, Charlie Hebdo and the media at large are telling (to mostly Western Countries) to not get angry at Muslims in general, even though what they themselves were drawing about was mocking the whole religion (even if unintentionally, which would be a great overlook).

The problem here and the point I'm trying to make is thus that the consequences that brought about the killings of Charlie Hebdo's journalists were caused by Charlie Hebdo itself. This is not a matter of freedom of speech or not, this is a matter of ethnicism. Did Charlie Hebdo's caricatures of prominent religious figures imply ethnicism?

The majority of the Islamic community is not of course terroristic, and is not going to come at your doors with guns and shoot at you for drawing their prophet. But if their is a small proportion of this religion that is dangerous, is mocking them and insulting them the way to go in combating such a problem? Do the majority of "good" Muslims feel as if they are actually being respected when they see this satire?

Combating physical terrorism should not be done with verbal or visual terrorism. Same would go for any other religion.

No one dares enter a Christian church naked and bellowing profanities when that same venue is considered "holy" by the community. Doing so would probably result in a jail sentence. We must not forget that the Christian faith has had many flaws in the past, and that during the Inquisition in Spain, even failing to cite loyalty to the King or to your devotion in God would result in torture or death.

Today we are facing a similar situation were the new Inquisition is the underdog, yet instead of purging it with proper means we are poking it with a stick and pretending it will not retaliate.

The Grass is Always Greener on the Other Side

To achieve sustainability in an ever growing population we must not put others to blame for the harm being caused to our planet.

When we look at the Earth from space all we see is a pale blue dot surrounded by nothing, except an endless dark stretch of space, void of life, breathless, dead.

And on that little blue dot speckled with green is our home. Our families, our loved ones, friends and all we care about. What we do today is putting all of this into jeopardy.

What we do today will affect our future. What we do tomorrow depends upon today.

To change our world we need ideas. Some ideas are simple. Growing a plant, turning off a light bulb, keeping the windows closed when the AC is on. All of these are important tiny steps, but we must not be scared to be a little more ambitious. We should strive to be both ambitious and simple.

Most of all, however, we must be positive!

The ideas we need must stem from the problems we face. How are we to assign priorities to these problems? We must look beyond boundaries, beyond borders and political noise. Climate change, ozone layer depletion and similar phenomena affect us all equally. How conscious are you of your fragility on that pale blue dot?

We must also look beyond time. Think about your daughters and your grandsons. Will they merit a world worse than the one you inherited?

The only green we know is Earth. We know not of any other planet that harbours life. And even though Earth is plentiful and has provided for us for millennia, it is not infinite. Resources are running out.

The cost of metals such as copper keep rising and to keep to demand extending mining operations threaten to destroy our ecosystems.

Reducing our impact is ensuring our survival. We must keep the balance intact.

On a positive note, the 2000's (as they may be called) are a great time to live in!

There are great minds at work to solve the problems of an ever growing population.

Here I present the four ideas that I believe will shape this century, lest they save us and drive us into a Greener Tomorrow:

1 - Cities in the skies
2 - Automated electric vehicles
3 - Space elevators
4 - Asteroid mining

I will be going into more detail in each one of these on separate blog posts to show how they might hopefully be our lifeline for the future.

The Poison Wall

Many years ago before the Sundering and even before the Black Mist took over the Delta there was a farmer, cunning and pre-emptive who lived in a little hut at the base of the Mountains, and his name was John.

John was a master botanist. He classified plants and identified them on the spot just by looking at them for a couple of seconds. His knowledge was passed on to him by his family. John's father, Professor Albert Pompidou of Gillis was a lecturer at the Great Mountain Halls. His mother, Ophelia Lepsi was an adventurer. She had travelled the far-beyond, into the jungles, and came back with samples for her husband to name.

John had characteristics of both his parents. He was adventurous and intellectual. The farms that he built on his own at the foot of the Mountains where the Blue River disappeared provided sustenance to his family; his wife Elizabeth Pompidou and the three children she nurtured.

No man in the Delta had foreseen the coming of the Black Mist except one. John had long preached about it's coming. He felt it in his soil, saw it in his plants, tasted it in the waters. He feared of what might come of the far beyond if the mist had to overcome the mountains. And he also feared of what might come across to the Delta from the jungles beyond, when no man was left to defend against the threat. He did not wish to see his home ravaged by beasts, neither did he want Skaipei and it's denizens to suffer from this assault if it would come to one.

So John devised the most cunning plan ever to come to his mind. He was to build a wall of poisonous plants, thick and long covering the base of the mountains. A wall that no man and no beast would be able to cross, for it would be the plants he loved that protected the Delta. 

He set out to build this wall ten years before the coming of the Black Mist. Those years the skies were still clear and the sun shone bright on the soil. The air, however, already felt thick and heavy. The wind that incessantly blew from the sea to the East reached the mountains where it broke and left it's cargo. And so it was when John sown his first seeds that the winds from the East brought the first black drops of moisture over the Delta.

From his gardens John selected a variety of plants most toxic to all kinds of beasts. He chose the most deadly of all, and picked varied species to leave no dent in the shield which he was to grow. To protect the soil, he sown Rapa filiformis a bulb plant with threadlike leaves. The bulb seeps out toxic chemicals that inhibit burrowers from advancing, while the tendrils above had sticky barbs that readily attached to beasts passing through. These then seeped the same poison onto their victims. 

Other kinds included plants of the family Corocoros. A blue form of shrub that had large nail-like protrusions from it's branches. A scratch on these needles poisoned the victim with a chemical that prevented clotting. Other plants unleashed a mixture of toxic gases all over the wall.

To grow his poison wall, John first sown his seeds all across the Mountain base and constructed irrigation pipe along his transect. Over ten years, the wall was watered through these pipes, for not even John was invulnerable to his own creation and would not be able to go close to them.

So eventually the wall grew, sixty kilometres long, five kilometres wide. It's height varied at areas, but was on average at least five metres high, yet thick and impenetrable. The plume of toxic gas that was emitted from the wall reached a further kilometre all around it.

This was a great achievement for John. He felt proud and of duty to his people though the same cannot be said otherwise. For the citizens of Skaipei outcasted John from their city. He was labelled a traitor, a heretic. No one believed of the dangers beyond the mountains, even less of the coming Black Mist. 

Only when the dark tide swept over the Delta like a mattress being pulled over a  naked baby did the people of Skaipei think back to what a crazy man had once told them ten years ago.

"I shall erect a wall of poison below the Mountains, for when the darkness comes, let there be a barrier between our lands and the jungles beyond. Let there be a sliver of hope for us in the dark, that the beasts from beyond may not make of us what cats make of mice of the fields."

The Forgotten Inn

"My name is John Pompidou. I am an outcast." He said this without flinching. 

John Pompidou looked like an old man. His hair was shoulder height,turning grey and was sprouting from under a cowboy hat, brown and made of leather. His chin was covered by a dark brown beard, not very long, but dense and  which continued up his lips to join a bulky mustache. 

He sat on a chair, his right foot crossed over his left, his hands draping down backwards. He didn't look at Virelda or Kripp, but kept chewing on a piece of straw. 

"I have seen you looking around the Grand Cave. As if lost. Are you lost?" He now lifted his eyes from the ground and looked intensely towards Virelda. 

"Sir, I...I am not lost. My friend here, is showing me around." Virelda looked at Kripp concerned. Kripp grinned slightly and moved towards Pompidou. 

Kripp whispered. "She's a highborne. A daughter of the skies!".

John Pompidou jolted slightly backwards on his chair and almost toppled over. 

"Interesting." He said. 

His chocolate brown eyes, although the same colour of his skin and everything else he wore really, were bright and intent. He examined Virelda closely. His eyes moved up and down three or four times before he said a word.

"You look pale, child."

"I am pale." Said Virelda. "We have travelled for two days now, and I haven't ate much."

"I see, but your skin. It is not tainted."

Virelda looked at her skin and then back at him. John's skin was the colour of his leather hat. Brown and rugged like that of Kripp's. She now looked back at her skin and was amazed at how delicate it looked, fragile even.

"What do you mean by tainted?", she asked.

"By the Mist is what I mean." John now spoke in a solemn voice. It was as if something boiled in his heart and he moved a hand to hold it. "The Mist has ruined us all. Cast us away from the light. In this dirty hole. We are pitiful. Outcasts."

"We are NOT outcasts!", snapped Kripp. "We live here by choice. It is you who feel like an outsider. It is you who does not feel like you belong."

"Very so," said John, "I am not a child of this land. I am not a Mole."

Virelda looked at John with empathy. She felt like an outcast as well. Her departure from Skyscapes was not a planned excursion. For all she knew, she might not even be able to return to the City in the Skies. Her heart ached, as John's did a few moments before. She put her hand to her chest.

"I escaped the City in the Skies", said she, "after the High Mayor sent an Elite Force to arrest me." She was honest, clear in her words. She hadn't talked to anyone else till now, except Kripp, and a tear rolled down her eyes.

"I am not sure of what happened to my father. I am not even sure of what might happen to me." She was now shedding tears as she made an effort to continue. "This is not my home. I want to go back home and live in the sky."

"Virelda." Kripp held up an arm around her shoulder. "Home is far away, it is. But this is my home. And soon it will be your home too. The Nest is as good as the City in the Skies believe me. I will show you around and we will meet many people. You will have new family here. New friends. This will be your new home."

Virelda masked away her tears as she looked at the boy beside her. He was not very smart, she thought, but he had something far better than that in him. He had empathy. His words soothed her fears and she hugged him dearly.

John Pompidou was still looking at the two from the far side of the Inn with interest.

"So, you two have reconciled? May I continue?". Virelda and Kripp were slightly embarrassed as they turned back to John to see what he had to say. "As it be, the Forgotten Inn is not a great place to talk in. We shall now move out and meet again in twenty minutes in the Grand Cave, East of the Pool."

He stood up from his chair as he threw the straw from his mouth on the table. "I am to show you the Lungs of the Nest. If, of course, you desire to do so." He looked at Virelda waiting for an answer.

"What are the Lungs of the Nest?", she said. In truth, she did not even know what the Nest itself was. But from what she could understand, it was the name given to these caves and tunnels buried underground. It was the city of the Moles.

"The Lungs of the Nest are the tribal homes. Nine tribes live in the Nest. All swore to protect the Queen. And you, if you wish to become part of the Moles, must meet the leader of each and every tribe. Only then shall you consider the Nest home."

"Very well." Said Virelda. As she did, John Pompidou quickly hurried out of the Forgotten Inn and disappeared.

"He said we have to meet him in twenty minutes." Kripp said, "It is better to hurry up."

"Thank you Kripp", she said. Kripp looked at Virelda and then turned to the door.
"You're welcome", he answered ever so faintly as he hurriedly made way for the door. 

God and Beauty

Yesterday I had the chance to be part of a Christian Mass. One of those ritualised masses that I haven't attended for four years now. I was there because I was with people who adhere to the beliefs of Christianity. People that I love and respect and wish for them to be free in thought, and to live their life fulfilled however that may come about.

During this mass I listened and tried to understand why myself, a few years back, was such a Christian devotee. Then the priest  advocated the life of St. Augustine and he said that this man, in his life, referred to his God as Beautiful. At that moment I felt close to St. Augustine. For when I look outside at the trees and the rocks, when I am by the sea and hear the waves dancing on the sand and look up at the glittering stars, what I see is Beauty.

You see, you do not have to have Religion to see Beauty. To feel the Beauty around us. You might believe in God or you might not, but what we all must come to realize is the beauty of life. I think that Religion was the result of this realization. That men and women of old saw Beauty in their lives and the wonders around them and they had to assign a name to this Beauty. They created God to give meaning to the seemingly perfect and magnificent happenings of nature.

However with time, the pure idea of love and understanding of nature and the closeness of man to nature and its beauty got corrupted. Greed and selfishness shaped religion. Religion became the tool to control the emotions of man. It became the weapon of cunning individuals for their benefits, to use against people pure in heart. Those people who were spiritual and saw Beauty in the world were the most susceptible to manipulation.

Yet today, we might be moving away from that manipulation once again. We are becoming closer to the root of our Religion. We are becoming more Spiritual and less Ritual. For the important part to argue about is not the existence of God but the Beauty of life. All humans, believers or not can see this Beauty. They can feel the power of a storm and the sweet caress of a breeze. They can hear the power of thunder and give praise to the light of the sun that warms us on a chill Winter day.

This is what we need to learn. To dream of life. For there is no greater pleasure in life than to appreciate life. Forget about God for a moment and look around you. There is YOU and there is the world right now. Would you rather love life and live it peacefully or would you rather love the idea of God and live life to please him, when in your mind the same reason for God to create life in the first place was for you to live it?

So worry not about God and what came before or what comes next. There is no need for ritual. No need for prayer. For life itself is a prayer. Drinking dew off a flower in bloom or laying down in a field in the heat of the sun is a prayer to life. It is your recognition of this Beauty that matters.

A Hundred Billion Years Across The Universe

Across the vastness of this simple Universe a spaceship tumbles in the fabric of the matrix on its way to Alpha-B112.

"Commander, our trajectory has shifted 2' West in the last ten minutes. Shall I proceed with recovery procedure?"

The commander, a stout man ripe in age looked back at his pilot. He evoked a stern look, "Let our ship veer off its path", he said, "for it seems as if the path we have chosen was only our intended destination, but not the journey which our ship desires to pursue." 

The pilot was confused for a second. He looked back at the commander then back at the flickering buttons on his control-console. Hesitantly he moved back from the console and looked back at the commander.

"Sir, at this rate our trajectory will shift over half a million kilometres from Alpha-B112 on estimated arrival time." His perturbations bubbled up his throat as he made an effort not to look worried while speaking to his superior. "Are you certain of your decision sir?"

"I have seen many great deeds unfold before my eyes Haley", said the commander. "And I have looked deep and thought hard about all this. About the Universe we live in." The commander moved closer to the pilot and looked deep into this eyes. 

"Haley, have you ever noticed strange happenings? Have you ever been vigilant enough and witnessed atypical events transpiring in the darkness that envelopes our spaceship?". The commander now looked outside the circular window on the other side of the commanding room, behind the control-console. 

Haley followed the gaze of the commander and then moved slowly to the window. Peering outside he could see a black curtain dotted with white covering all the corners of the Universe he now looked at. To the East, Alpha-B112 appeared brighter than the neighbouring stars, but was still very far away. 

A lightning cracked to West in the darkness. Haley jerked back and the commander held him firm from his shoulder.

"Have you finally seen it?", said the commander.

"What was that William?", said the pilot, forgetting his manners towards his superior.

Commander William grinned delightfully towards Haley. "It is a glitch my friend. See, our trajectory is deviating from the assigned path and the Universe is not happy about our decision to not correct the mistake."

"But why would the Universe be unhappy about such a thing sir?", said the pilot worried.

"You see, chance had it, our journey was altered by a random event. Tell me Pilot Haley, have you been the one to veer the ship off course?" 

"Sir, I would never."

"Exactly!", snapped Commander William. "It is an act of God! A stroke of luck my friend. Have you ever asked why we always travel to already specified star systems?" The commander now stared blankly towards the middle of the ship's room. 

"Think very carefully Pilot Haley. We always follow trajectories. We have never failed to arrive where we have always intended to go. Yet, we never know why or how our paths have been chosen. We never ask, either. Now, you see, this is a freak event in the nature of our existence. Chance shaped our paths and we veered from our destiny. We are moving away from what had been chosen for us, and the Universe is not happy. I have noticed this before already."

"But sir, what was that lightning really?", asked Haley.

"It was a glitch. An error in the Universe due to our negligence to appeal to correction. It seems as if we are not supposed to keep to mistakes created by chance. We should always fix problems that occur randomly. But today we have not. Do you know what the difference is today Mr. Haley?"

Pilot Haley looked puzzled. "What sir?"

"Today it was me who took the decision."

Outside the ship, lightning started to crack across the black fabric of space. Pilot Haley rushed to the control-console and mashed three buttons in rapid succession. A whoof noise echoed through the room. The lightning spread across the window. 

"Pilot Haley!". The commander's voice was dampened by the echoing noise. "Today we shall touch the hand of God!"

As the pilot kept pressing buttons on his console, the lightning outside the window multiplied and grew in size. The stars once seen dotting the landscape now shuddered and fidgeted here and there across the Universe. A white plane suddenly appeared through the darkness, and through it Pilot Haley and Commander William could see a field of green grass and a blue sky.

"What in the world is that which I see?", asked Haley baffled. William looked deeper into the plane that now was expanding in front of them.

"That my friend, is another Universe. The door has opened for us to leave this matrix Mr. Haley."

"What about our mission?", asked the pilot in turn.

"Where one mission fails, another shall begin." Commander William pressed two buttons on the control-console and the ship took a jolt and accelerated forwards.

"There is no one reality that exist but many", said William, "The Universe we live in is a simulation. A conjecture of the Universe in which we are about to ascend."

And with those last words the spaceship in which they sailed dissipated into a white plane across a black curtain littered with lightning.

Across the vastness of this simple Universe a spaceship tumbles in the fabric of the matrix on its way to Alpha-B112.

"Commander, our trajectory's shift in direction has been accounted for and corrected.", said the Pilot.

Zombies

I saw in a dream the day the virus spread. It took over humanity so rapidly, and zombified most humans. Not the typical movie of a walking dead, but much the same and as scary. The virus infests a person's brain, confuses it and makes it want to socialise and come in contact with people. It transmits to other people through sneezing, kissing, open wounds and other bodily fluids.

An infected person has no control over his conscious decisions and is most of the times confused. An infected person seeks other people and feels lonely all the time. This way, the virus ensures that it can spread through the population. Loved ones are most susceptible, because they are more prone to come to each other and they usually cannot resist the urge to touch their beloved, even if they are infected. It was hard to see my loved ones get infected by the virus. How they all seemed lost in their thoughts, walking blindly around trying to find affection from others. It was even more painful to leave my wife when I realized she had become confused. 

All it took were three days for the virus to spread so rapidly. The virus itself is not lethal, for it does not impede normal bodily functions or destroys cells. However, it removes our conscious identity. An infected person is like a newborn trying to understand the world in which he has arrived. That person can still do normal tasks though. Infected people will still go to work, drive a car and cook. They usually do not even realize they have become infected. For when they lose their self-awareness they act like highly intelligent animals without a superior motif in life.

FutureLabs could not do much to fight the epidemic. They had made the virus themselves, but unintentionally. And the speed by which it spread and its subtlety (for no one really realized until day two what was really happening around the world) was unaccounted for. No cure was available. Those of us who managed to live the third day sought each other and tried to avoid the infected. But the infected craved for us. They drove to us and phoned us, cried for us to be with them, for them not to be lonely. And we had to try and explain to them, as in explaining to a newborn in a confused sleep-like state, the situation. Our efforts to make them realize their state was of course futile. We escaped, and we came here, to the house upon the hill in the woods. 

There are 30 of us here and we are ready to fight the infected. Whether we will have the courage to do whatever it takes to keep them away is our biggest struggle. How can we prevent them from approaching us when they do not consciously have control over their decisions? When they do not understand what it means to "stay back"?

Yet, here they come. From the window of the attic I could see around fifty cars driving towards the hill. They are coming for us. Their loneliness has overtook them, and now they seek conscious company. 

They drive into the open field in front of the house and out of their cars they come. They look around confused, as they normally do. They look at each other and at the sky and then at the house. They moan and say mumbled words between them. Then they walk towards the house crying for us. 

"Why do you leave us?", they cry, "Why are you hiding from your families? Are we not also humans?"

Some of us in the house shed tears. Those people outside were once like us, normal. Some of us even recognized their family members. And then, amongst them, I could see her. I could see my wife wondering about the cars outside looking at the sky, confused. I felt like a knife stab me in the heart. 

More of them came. There were now over a hundred zombified people walking around outside the house. 

We could not let them come close. A single breath from one of them would immediately infect us. One hug, one kiss, one tear from these zombies is all it took to come in contact with us, and destroy our consciousness. Human identity would be lost forever.

They knocked on the door. We looked at each other. One of us came out with a knife from the kitchen. We would have to defend ourselves. We had to kill these humans to survive. I went to the pantry and got a long pike the previous owners used for their garden. The door knocked again, and the zombies were now shouting at us for not letting them in. 

Suddenly, the door burst open. One of them had kicked it in. For a moment, the 30 of us looked at the door, and in the doorway a dozen men and women looked at us back with blank stares. I could see no soul lurking within them.

One of them took a step forward and said "Don't run from us please, all we want is to be with you". That is all he said before I saw a knife protruding out of his forehead. One of us had threw a knife at him, and hit him straight where he aimed. The remaining zombies looked at the dead body and showed no emotion whatsoever. 

They looked back at us and one of them said "Why did you have to kill him? Please let us in, we are lonely. All we want is to love you. All we want is to be with you."

They all started moving in. Our group hesitated. Then we all realized this was our last chance to live. To survive the infection and live to be humans. I charged a man and piked him on my stick. Blood gushed from his neck and he screeched with pain. Tears shed down my face. These were all human beings after all, even if they had lost their identities. 

We fought them off. There were hundreds of them now, coming in few by few in the house. I tried to look for her but I couldn't find her. I couldn't find my wife. Then she appeared in the doorway. I could see her beautiful brown hair tied in a ponytail and her eyes. They were once beautiful and she always smiled. But she was now sullen and appeared lost. 

I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to kill her. And I wanted to be the one to end her life and not someone else. I moved two steps forward.

The zombies suddenly turned, and walked away from the house. My wife immediately took a step outside and I lost her from my sight. All the zombies went back into their cars, and one by one they drove off away from the house on the hill. 

What had happened?

A few days now passed, and there were new reports being aired on the television. Something had killed the virus. Some said that the virus was not adapted to living in humans and so it died off naturally. The most saddening fact, however, was that the infected had remained confused. They were human husks, empty from inside, no emotions, no purpose in life. The government collected all of the zombies into "camps" for rehabilitation. There was said to be psychiatric help given at the camps, but what really happened in them was not very clear. I do not know where my wife is. I do not know if she still lives, but I will find her. I've heard rumours that some conscious people that I know had seen her drive off to the south. 

I'm driving there now, to one of the largest psychiatric camps in this country. I will find my wife, and do whatever it takes to be with her. I do not truly believe whoever she was is lost. I do not believe she has no soul. I still have hope. I still believe in her. This is my purpose now, to find her.

Not just to find her unconscious walking body, but to find her and all we shared together, our memories and our life again. That person I once loved still lurks on this world, and I'll do whatever it takes to go to it and reclaim it back. After all, what makes us humans? Isn't it to hope and love, and to give to those who have lost all they've got part of what we still have? 

How Is Science Our Legacy and Written Knowledge Our Purpose?

I would like you to think about your life and your purpose in it. What are you aiming to achieve here, living for a split second on the cosmic time scale? How will your life affect the lives of others and the planet on which you live? Are you even looking for a purpose?

We are born knowing nothing of this world. Over our first years we take in information about our surroundings and build our senses. In our youth we build our emotions and connections with others of our species. And over the first 20 years we learn about technology and history and how to communicate this, as our forefathers did with us, to the next generations.

Then, you start work. There are three kinds of work you can do in life. Firstly, you can be a slave to others. This is the kind of job where you follow a monotonous routine given to you by your employers. Your day consists of a ritualized regime serving the needs of your company. This is the least fulfilling of jobs.

Secondly, there is service. This work consists of taking your own decisions in providing a service to others. This can include work as an entrepreneur or a business man or a doctor diagnosing people. In a service job, your brain is used in solving problems that are immediate and at hand. This can be a fulfilling job if what you aim for is the satisfaction of the present.

Lastly, there is the work of written legacy. This is the most fulfilling of jobs and has the most impact on society. A job that deals with written legacy includes any work in which you come up with new and innovative ideas that may be passed down the generations to alter the lives of other people. This is usually done by passing on what you discover in written form. Our ancestors first began their written legacy by inventing language. Some time after this, mathematics was invented, which was later used to understand and write about physics. Chemistry was also a new form of written legacy describing the material world.

Every job that entails the discovery of something new that may affect society can be considered as legacy. A person that leaves part of his life's work in the collective legacy can feel as if he had purpose in life.

Science is an example of a work entailing written legacy. Science is a treasure trove of knowledge in which discoveries are written down and shared with society. This, however, does not make science the only meaningful field of work. Any type of work, from slave work to service, to low profile written legacy, can be promoted to a more fulfilling job.

A doctor providing service can come up with innovative ways to treat patients and leave a legacy behind. A person working in a factory may come up with an idea for a new product. What we leave behind when we die will be the product of our work's legacy. A slave's life may have little impact on our planet. To dream in leaving behind a legacy may give your purpose to live.

This, of course, does not mean that a slave worker may not have purpose. His purpose may be to serve as a slave in order to sustain his family. A person that is writing down a legacy, on the other hand, may not have a purpose still. However, it is far more likely for a person to find purpose in life if he realizes that what he does in a large part of this life is going to affect society.

For when a person dies, what he leaves behind are memories of his life that will slowly fade with the passing of time. But when a person leaves behind a legacy, his memory may be forgotten, but his legacy will ripple through the ages in our society for countless years to come.

Remember Then Forget

Never in your life let yourself be controlled by photos of the past.
Never let the memories of the past be the means with which you judge the present.
Or let yourself make decisions based upon decisions you've taken in the past.

For that which is memory should only stay in memories.
And you shall only remember of the past as memories.
Let memories be the means to remember what you shall forget.

Then start anew from that which comes to you in memories.
And you shall never suffer pain of loss or regret because of the past.
For every moment from then on shall be the only decisions that count.

Decisions based on truth that lie in the present.
In the breath on your tongue and the sweat on your chin.
For every moment now is like a flower in bloom painted in red.

Beware of the past I say and forget it.
And begin once more from the beginning.
Only then shall you see the value of making memories
And only then shall you live and know the present.

How Light Carries On Endlessly Even After Death

"With shortness of breath, I'll explain the infinite.

How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist."

Life is short. You do not realize it as much as you do as in the last days you are given. Then comes the day when all the days you have had become a treasure. You look back because the future is no more. Your days ahead are fleeting and the days behind creep in. Memories surge in your mind like the waves on that summer day when you talked to the person you loved and told them how much you truly loved them. Life seemed endless that day. And you ended up having children and children of those children. How did it come to this? 

The universe was made as if to be seen by my eyes. Yet it was only by your choice. How could I ever be grateful enough for that fleeting chance in your life? When you met your love and the choice you took in loving him? That moment you said yes to him echoed through time. That moment you loved each other.

 Life is so beautiful, for life gives upon life. Your love was like a seed and you bore fruit that grew into other trees. But now it's hard to look in your eyes and see the pain. I can see that you do not look ahead. Fear is in you. I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen. Your story is yours to take with you. And I can only look here with shortness of breath.

 I'm struck by the beauty of life and how rare and beautiful it is that we exist. How light carries on endlessly even after death. 

The Nomads

This is our story. It is not a happy story but it is filled with hope. For mountains are climbed not with successes but with struggles.

We are a nomadic people. Two thousand years ago planet Earth was at the brink of annihilation. The cause; human beings. Our race polluted the lands and killed the Earth on which we lived. Blindly we trenched through our denial until the Earth could take no more. Be careful. Do not assume that we were ignorant. We were far from ignorant, we were smart and cunning, and we held enough knowledge to overcome any obstacle we wished to overcome, but we failed. Pride was our downfall. 

We denied our mistakes and the faults in our deeds were masked by a pride held towards our intelligence. We thought that we were infallible, that our technology was all we required. We did not see further than the ridge over our noses. The machinery we built made us comfortable and unnecessarily lazy. Then came long life and the children of our children lived to a ripe age that only a tree might live to. Yet, when those same men grew to a thousand years or two of that, there were not trees to call brothers in death. For the trees had gone, and the skies had darkened. We had polluted the Earth with chemicals and killed all the trees for land. Our eyes forgot what the colour green might look like.

So we had to flee. Our blindness caused too much harm to the land. Our denial kept us from realizing it. The Black Mist took over the world like the night takes over the day. We built one hundred ships, all grand and beautiful, for what else could we build to show off the strength and prowess of our intellect? The ships were ovulate shaped and housed two thousand man and three thousand females. In their core lay dormitories and factories. On the outskirts lay water farms in which food was grown. The solar sails which were deployed once in orbit dwarfed even the size of the same ships to which they were attached. 

And so one hundred self-reliant vessels, each like a planet from which they fled, left for uncharted territories. The people on the ships were hand picked by the ten most powerful countries. Each ship had people of mixed races to preserve genetic diversity, but each was ruled by a dominant sovereignty. And each ship was to sail towards a star far away from our own. These stars had what was thought to be rocky planets like our own. But we were not sure. No one really knew if the planets which orbited these far flung stars had hospitable soil upon which to land. 

Yet, we left. For the children of our children's children might one day dream to live on solid ground we hoped. We left like nomads to a new land. And for thousands of years we lived on egg-like ships in the darkness of space dragged by solar winds on the sails of our vessels. We would never see each other again. Harder still was to know that we would never see our Home, or so we thought. 

For my ship arrived at CS1B six generations ago and there they found no land soft enough for walking. The scorched planets ran fast close around the star, and the giants slowly circled on the edges of their sun lit orbits. And this was a blow to the hearts of my fathers. My people cried for years in agony of their futile voyage. Then came the day when the Greater Being amongst us said a word, and we left CS1B and sailed back. We sailed back Home. For where else would we go?

This is the story of my fathers and the story of my people. We are nomads. And we have come back to reclaim our homeland.


Signed,
The Greater Being